A New Normal
by emication
Summary: JackSawyer postrescue futurefic. Sometimes all that helps is running away.


Title: A New Normal  
Rating: PG-13  
Pairing: Jack/Sawyer  
Warnings: Post-rescue future fic  
Summary: Sometimes all that helps is running away.

It started on the rescue boat. Well, Sawyer figured it really started on the island, but it was more noticeable on the boat, when things were supposed to be starting back towards normal and the stress of island life was over. Jack would toss and turn in his sleep, mumbling through his dreams, but the words were never anything Sawyer could distinguish. Sometimes Jack would get violent, physically lashing out, pounding against Sawyer's chest and kicking out as his shins as the other man tried to reach out and hold on until Jack calmed down.

Jack wouldn't remember what he'd been dreaming about the next morning, only being able to tell the violent nights from the calm ones by how fresh the bruises on his hands and Sawyer's torso looked. The dreams could have been about so many things - the crash, the deaths Jack felt personally responsible for, their capture by the Others, or maybe it was guilt at so quickly needing to forget his life from before in order to survive on the island. Or maybe it was the island itself with its deep, dark jungles and the notion of being lost, forgotten.

Sawyer knew it started on the boat, though, and the nightmares didn't seem to be in a hurry to leave.

oOo

They stopped at Hawaii first. Oceanic was ready with a large settlement, like they knew they'd have no chance in winning if one of the survivors decided to sue, and they even brought their families out to meet them in Honolulu. Sawyer knew that no one would be there to meet him, but he was surprised that no one came for Jack. Sawyer wasn't the only one that didn't have any family, but he had been certain that Jack's mother would be there. Jack didn't seem surprised that she wasn't.

Oceanic, on top of the settlement, was financing their stay in Hawaii, room service bills and all, so the first night, Sawyer put their generosity to good use by diminishing the hotel bar's stock of their most expensive bourbon. He was at the stage where focusing became a problem when Jack came stumbling in, shirt half untucked from his pants and looking like he'd gotten a good head start on Sawyer.

They stumbled into the elevator, Jack giggling as he managed to hit all the buttons around their own floor's instead of the one that would take them to the rooms that all the survivors and their families had been placed in. He eventually got the correct floor. Sawyer was too content to lean against the back wall to try and help him, attempting not to feel sick to his stomach as the elevator jerked to a stop and moved again starting at the seventh floor and going until the eleventh when they got off.

Sawyer found himself staring at Jack a lot as they meandered back to their rooms. He was still getting used to the idea of seeing people clean with clothes on that were still whole. Jack's face was flushed from the alcohol and when he laughed Sawyer could smell gin, and in his current state, Jack was laughing a lot. He knew it was the alcohol, making Jack act the way he was, but the giddiness combined with the difference in appearance was causing Sawyer problems in connecting the man in front of him to the one he knew on the island.

With surprising dexterity, Jack had managed to pull out the keycard to his room and open the door. It slammed shut behind them, and then Jack's mouth was on his, forceful and insistent yet somehow soft. That night in Hawaii had been the first time they'd had sex since the island, and it was in that moment with his and Jack's bodies, naked and aroused, grasping at the stiff, white sheets of the hotel bed did it truly sink in that it was over. The island was behind them.

Collapsing, spent, into the mattress in a tangle of limbs, Sawyer felt Jack's breath against his ear, and wondered what happened now.

"Don't leave," Jack said, his voice low, even though Sawyer hadn't made the slightest of motions towards getting up.

"Trust me, Doc, I ain't goin' nowhere right now."

"'S not what I meant," Jack replied before letting sleep overcome him.

He meant when they all broke apart, Sawyer mused. When they couldn't stay in Honolulu any longer and needed to get back to where they left off. Sawyer had nowhere to go and no one to meet up with, but he wasn't the sort of man who made promises, staying silent but subconsciously knowing that he wasn't going anywhere.

oOo

Getting back to California, the celebrity of being a survivor quickly wore their nerves thin. They couldn't walk down the streets of Los Angeles without being mobbed by people that recognized them from the newspapers or television. The questions were as bad as the fact that they got treated like heroes. Sawyer sure as hell didn't feel like a hero. If any of them were worthy of that title it was Jack, but he wouldn't want to hear it from anybody. He felt like a coward with the nightmares that plagued his sleep, and when he suggested leaving, Sawyer wasn't surprised.

They slowly moved up the coastline, leaving everything behind except for what could fit in the Grand Cherokee. It reminded Sawyer more of his life before, the constant moving and living out of cheap motels, only now he didn't have to worry about money for a good while. The farther north they went, the colder the air got, and the easier Jack slept at night.

Easier didn't necessarily mean easily, though.

The psychotherapists that Oceanic hired to talk to them had said that they were all suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder in one way or another. As Sawyer watched the intensity of Jack's dreams slowly fade, he could only wonder what it would take to recognize in himself what the doctors claimed was already there.

oOo

"Old habits die hard, huh?"

Sawyer looked up and Jack was walking towards him while putting on a sweater. He was reading on the beach in a white lawn chair that he'd borrowed from the ocean view deck of their latest temporary residence. It was November and they were almost in Oregon, a northern California town called Crescent City, so naturally they were the only non-locals around and got a decent place to stay for rather cheap. Sawyer drew his knees to his chest so Jack could sit at the bottom of the chair, watching the other man look out at the oil tankers and various other barges on this part of the Pacific.

"It's either this or I start chain smoking again, and I don't wanna put up with my Doc yellin' about my health." Sawyer was glad to see the smile that drew out of Jack. His smiles were still shy, and Jack had a tendency to turn away like he was in denial about having a sense of humor. Sawyer hoped Jack's mood was lightened enough now so what he had to say next wasn't as devastating. "You had another one last night. You didn't lash out like you sometimes do, but you still seemed pretty upset." Sawyer didn't need to tell Jack that he'd been crying in his sleep. He'd seen Jack cry before, but it was never anything he felt like he needed to mention.

"I guess we keep moving then. See what Oregon is like." Jack was watching the surf roll in, not looking at Sawyer, dark eyes with even darker shadows scanning the sea like it might have some answers. It wasn't the water they'd had problems with on the island. The ocean had been their only source of hope, looking out for a rescue boat and knowing that eventually, once the water hit land, there was home. "I made coffee," Jack said, finally looking back at Sawyer. "You should come back inside."

Salvation had come from the sea when the cruise ship finally appeared on the horizon, moving with what had seemed like deliberate slowness closer and closer to their little island that had gone from begrudging paradise to prison in two months with another three years before they'd actually get off. That was probably why Sawyer didn't like to lose sight of the ocean for long. He'd told Jack they were following the coast because it was easier, but with no destination in mind other than north, it wasn't like they could get lost.

They were only moving thirty feet, though, back inside and the windows looked over the water. It was a strange case of claustrophobia he had, Sawyer eventually realized, and he couldn't remember if he had it before or if this was something new since the island. Spending three years for the most part outside would certainly explain his current issue with being in walls and breathing processed air, but thinking back to his childhood in another lifetime, hiding under a bed he could barely remember, it was probably always there and recently magnified. It was in his benefit that Jack knew how to make a damn good cup of coffee or Sawyer might not have moved.

Jack started kissing him when they got back inside, pressing Sawyer back against the sliding glass door, and he knew that Jack knew he'd cried last night. If Jack had waken up at some point or his pillow was still damp this morning, Sawyer wasn't sure, but it was like he was trying to apologize silently. Demanding and needy, Jack's tongue stroked along the insides of Sawyer's mouth until he was moaning into the kiss, getting goose bumps on his stomach as Jack lifted Sawyer's shirt, exposing his skin to the cooler air as he started working at the buttons of Sawyer's pants.

"Don't," Sawyer gasped out, hurrying to explain at the taken aback and hurt expression he got from Jack. "Not because of that."

"Just not sure why you're still here," Jack said, his hands ghosting across Sawyer's abs.

Because Sawyer wasn't the sort of man who made promises, he didn't tell Jack about that first night in Hawaii and how Jack had been drunk and told him not to leave. He also wasn't the type of man who could tell Jack that he loved him.

"'Cause you're all I got, Doc."

oOo

They weren't really running from Jack's nightmares, no matter how much it seemed like they were.

The problem with being back in the rest of the world was how on the island they'd been able to start again, not have to worry about who they used to be since it didn't matter anymore. They all got a fresh start, clean slate, a do-over, in other words. Getting saved meant they were off the island, but it also meant things were expected to fall back to the way they were.

Sawyer didn't have anybody to reunite with, but Jack did. His mother was there when they arrived at LAX, and the hospital was willing to give him his job back as long as he spent a year as a resident first, getting reacquainted until they were confident that he remembered what he was doing. They'd been sure that Jack's nightmares would stop once he got to working full shifts at the hospital again, kept his mind occupied all day, but they only got worse.

Jack got to the apartment they'd had a month-to-month lease on one day and said that he'd quit working at the hospital. Going back to normal wasn't working for him since things were so apparently not normal. When they weren't being treated like heroes, they were treated like children who didn't understand how the world worked anymore, other people treading on eggshells in their presence.

They started driving, just to see what else their was, like a road trip or a vacation of sorts, but the farther they got from what was known and comfortable, the easier life became, so they never thought of turning back, and Jack's nightmares gradually got better. Sawyer just hoped they went away before they'd gone so far that he got to see another polar bear.

oOo

When they hit Washington, Jack had his first dreamless night. He'd been the one driving all day, so they stayed an extra night just to make sure exhaustion hadn't been keeping his subconscious thoughts inactive. The nightmares didn't happen that second night as well as the third or the fourth. They moved further instate, away from the edge of the country, heading east after Aberdeen, and then following the Puget Sound until hitting Seattle.

"There are no polar bears here," Jack said with a smile as Sawyer drove them through the city.

It had the ocean, though. Had it without having it, anyway. The water in the sound was still the water of the Pacific, making the air smell of brine, but there was land in sight, not just a vast expanse of blue. Boats were constantly moving in and out of the sound, from one side to the other carrying people back and forth. It was still the Pacific, but in this new, enclosed location, it felt less lonely, less desperate.

"It's nice here," Sawyer decided, looking over at Jack to gauge his emotions. It had suddenly started to rain in thick, heavy sheets of water that the streetlights reflected the shadows of the droplets streaming down the windows onto Jack's face. He seemed to be studying the people hustling down the sidewalk under dark umbrellas, wondering if the people would inflict upon them misery that the ones back in LA had caused. "Wanna stop?"

"The coffee here is supposed to be really good," was Jack's response, gaze flicking over to meet Sawyer's. "I think it's worth a shot."

They stayed at a downtown hotel for two weeks until Jack came back one day, saying that he'd put money down on a loft apartment across the sound. They'd need to take the ferryboats into the city everyday, but Jack said there was a perfect view of the water.

Sawyer wasn't going to say no. Jack was sleeping through full nights for the first time since Sawyer met him when the plane crashed back on the island, and the dark circles under his eyes were gone. It felt good not to be moving every day or so, just having time to sit around with no obligations, getting acquainted with their new home. Even finding work wasn't an imminent problem - the settlement from Oceanic could keep them living excessively for another year, comfortably for a few years, and if they used is sparingly, it would probably take six years before money became an issue.

Now all that was left for them to do was to try and find a sense of a new normal to get over what was gone.

oOo

It was three thirty in the morning in February and Sawyer couldn't sleep, so he went downstairs and tried to read with a flashlight on the sofa, a heavy afghan sprawled across his legs. They were having a heavy snowstorm, and the snow was thick enough that it pulled down a power line in their neighborhood, knocking out electricity, so they had no heat. It was too cold for Sawyer. He'd grown up in the South and had stayed in the milder states his entire life. He'd never seen this much snow before, forget getting stuck inside with no heat and shivering no matter how many blankets he grabbed.

Jack was still sleeping upstairs. It was almost like he enjoyed the weather this way. Sawyer pulled on a hat and poured himself a glass of scotch that he drank as he read, trying to at least distract himself from the fact that it was cold.

"Alcohol doesn't make you warmer, you know."

Sawyer looked up to see Jack pulling on a sweater as he came down from the upper level. Sawyer felt something heavy in his throat wondering if it had been a nightmare that woke Jack - he hadn't had one in months now. "Makes me feel warmer."

"That's your blood cells dilating." Jack sat next to him on the sofa, pulling part of the afghan away from Sawyer to warm up his own legs.

"Well if I drink enough I'll forget that I'm cold or at least not care so much." Sawyer marked the page he was on, closing his book and putting it and his drink on the coffee table. "You didn't have a nightmare did you?"

"Nope."

"So why the hell are you awake?"

"Didn't know where you went." Jack reached for the coffee table, grabbing Sawyer's scotch and taking a slow sip. He winced as he swallowed. "This stuff tastes like shit."

"That's 'cause you like it room temperature." Sawyer chuckled. "Although I guess technically it being cold right now is room temperature."

Jack took another sip anyway. "The bed feels cold when you aren't there."

"You wanna go back upstairs?"

"Not really." Jack leaned forward to put the scotch down, moving closer to Sawyer has he sat back up. Sawyer felt Jack's hand rest on his thigh, long fingers tracing circles on the inside of his leg. "I'm good here."

Sawyer silently agreed as he felt his body heat up, knowing it wasn't because of the scotch, and that he and Jack were leading to an activity that would actually make them warmer, unlike the alcohol. Their mouths met as Jack's hand moved to where Sawyer wanted it to be, forgetting everything except the man that was Jack and how he made Sawyer feel. He did love Jack, and while he wasn't the type of man who normally said such things out loud, he knew it was only a matter of time before the last remnants of the man he was would be fully shed, and Jack would be able to hear for himself how Sawyer really felt and why he stayed.


End file.
